Hobson It seemed like being attacked by dogs was the best thing to happen to Hal and me. We could not be used to break into the basement of the MPD building due to our injuries. Nolan knew the place better than anyone, anyway. He was tortured there long ago; I can’t imagine why… Our "mission" was to provide cover fire from separate towers. After what Hal and I went through yesterday, he was the only man out of the other three to earn my trust. I hope the two of us can get the hell out of here.To hell with the other two, especially Nolan. He was always looking at my identity, as if he could take it. This troubled me. I wondered if anyone would know I shot him with my newly acquired rifle if my finger happened to slip.
As for Lester, I know I’m right about him. He’s in it for himself and his brother, as one should be, I suppose. I sense that Oren doesn’t have much of a chance in there. There’s no place in the post-apocalypse for a whiny, optimistic and naïve human being. I’m glad it’s me out here instead of them. Cyndaquil’s explosive went off, and it was time for us to do what we could. I scoped inside the building to see four guards; I dropped two of them, although only one seemed to stay alive. But barely, from what I could tell. I saw another drop.Nice shot, Hal.So far, so good; but I had little hope for those inside.Oh well. Suddenly, bullets rained down from a tower across the way from me and Hal. They couldn’t see us, but they knew bullets were coming from our direction. We each took a shot, I think, and from what I could see, my bullet dropped another guard. I hesitated with the thought that it was time to use my fire bullets. Two thirds of me would be gone, leaving shrapnel. I pondered the symbolism of that. I steadied myself, my identity at the ready. I suppose when you’ve already given a piece of yourself, it’s easier to care less about the rest.My life has been a giant rationalization. A distraction. Here I was, being used as a distraction, aiding in the break-in of people I did not care about in the least.
Still, there I was, fire bullets at the ready, aimed at the tower. I shot, and it went low.Fuck.No later did I realize that it had caught the bottom of the tower.Fire rises.I watched it as the fire quickly made its way up the tower, engulfing the guards like a snake devouring its prey.Fire… I’ve seen this sight before. And once again, my past came creeping back, if only for a second. I crumbled inside, lost feeling in my body for a few seconds, and began to shake. Had I been shot? No; not by anything real, at least. Bullets continued to rain down on my tower, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care about anything anymore. Two thirds of me had been used, for better or for worse. I hesitated less this time than with the rocket, but the image this time around was all the more horrifying. Everything burns; everything. Now, now… I only have one third left. What happens after that? Will something happen after that? Where’s Hal? Is he still shooting? I can’t see. I can’t hear. I can’t feel. I don’t want to feel. Not anymore. That fire; it’s gotten so big. It feels so, overwhelming. I heard footsteps, and a shouting of orders somewhere below my tower. Guards, on the ground. 10 of them, converging; eerily similar to how the packs of dogs were organized the day before. They were all right there, in front of me. Shrapnel would stop them cold. I hesitated one last time. This is it. This is the end of me.I took aim, and my face was still. I fired in a similar way to how I fired the rocket at the dogs, not realizing that I was not firing a rocket until it was already too late. The shrapnel took its course, and came up short, tearing up the ground in front of the guards. The guards themselves were fine. Just as bad as the rocket. Worse, actually, as this didn’t manage to kill any of them. I crumbled inside. Those three shots had drained me of whatever life I had. I had a sniper rifle, some ammo, and three empty shells. I was an empty shell. Some might say there is no point to taking an empty rocket launcher with you. I disagree; there is no point in leaving it behind, in leaving myself behind. I was going to make a run for it. It felt lighter with three empty shells. I felt lighter; or was it weaker? I ran, never turning around, not even for a second. I kept my eyes on the path in front of me, whatever path that happened to be. I ran until I felt safe enough to slow down. What I was carrying slowed me down, but I could not leave it behind. I could not leave myself behind. I heard another explosion from where Nolan and Oren attempted to break into.No way had they made it out alive. Not a chance. If they did, I doubt I’ll ever see them again. But, what about Hal?He was nowhere in sight. I wonder if he took his own path. I wonder if he found a path. I had four days to get to know these men, and in the last two days I have lost myself. I wonder if he still has his life. I have mine, in the sense that I am walking, and breathing. To the unsuspecting eye, the threat of my identity is still present. But, I know better. I wonder if there is someone out there with three more shells for this empty man. I’ll wander on.
It seemed like being attacked by dogs was the best thing to happen to Hal and me. We could not be used to break into the basement of the MPD building due to our injuries. Nolan knew the place better than anyone, anyway. He was tortured there long ago; I can’t imagine why…
Our "mission" was to provide cover fire from separate towers. After what Hal and I went through yesterday, he was the only man out of the other three to earn my trust. I hope the two of us can get the hell out of here. To hell with the other two, especially Nolan. He was always looking at my identity, as if he could take it. This troubled me. I wondered if anyone would know I shot him with my newly acquired rifle if my finger happened to slip.
As for Lester, I know I’m right about him. He’s in it for himself and his brother, as one should be, I suppose.
I sense that Oren doesn’t have much of a chance in there. There’s no place in the post-apocalypse for a whiny, optimistic and naïve human being. I’m glad it’s me out here instead of them.
Cyndaquil’s explosive went off, and it was time for us to do what we could. I scoped inside the building to see four guards; I dropped two of them, although only one seemed to stay alive. But barely, from what I could tell. I saw another drop. Nice shot, Hal. So far, so good; but I had little hope for those inside. Oh well.
Suddenly, bullets rained down from a tower across the way from me and Hal. They couldn’t see us, but they knew bullets were coming from our direction. We each took a shot, I think, and from what I could see, my bullet dropped another guard. I hesitated with the thought that it was time to use my fire bullets. Two thirds of me would be gone, leaving shrapnel. I pondered the symbolism of that. I steadied myself, my identity at the ready.
I suppose when you’ve already given a piece of yourself, it’s easier to care less about the rest. My life has been a giant rationalization. A distraction. Here I was, being used as a distraction, aiding in the break-in of people I did not care about in the least.
Still, there I was, fire bullets at the ready, aimed at the tower. I shot, and it went low. Fuck. No later did I realize that it had caught the bottom of the tower. Fire rises. I watched it as the fire quickly made its way up the tower, engulfing the guards like a snake devouring its prey. Fire… I’ve seen this sight before. And once again, my past came creeping back, if only for a second. I crumbled inside, lost feeling in my body for a few seconds, and began to shake.
Had I been shot? No; not by anything real, at least. Bullets continued to rain down on my tower, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care about anything anymore. Two thirds of me had been used, for better or for worse. I hesitated less this time than with the rocket, but the image this time around was all the more horrifying.
Everything burns; everything. Now, now… I only have one third left. What happens after that? Will something happen after that? Where’s Hal? Is he still shooting? I can’t see. I can’t hear. I can’t feel. I don’t want to feel. Not anymore. That fire; it’s gotten so big. It feels so, overwhelming.
I heard footsteps, and a shouting of orders somewhere below my tower. Guards, on the ground. 10 of them, converging; eerily similar to how the packs of dogs were organized the day before. They were all right there, in front of me. Shrapnel would stop them cold. I hesitated one last time.
This is it. This is the end of me. I took aim, and my face was still. I fired in a similar way to how I fired the rocket at the dogs, not realizing that I was not firing a rocket until it was already too late.
The shrapnel took its course, and came up short, tearing up the ground in front of the guards. The guards themselves were fine. Just as bad as the rocket. Worse, actually, as this didn’t manage to kill any of them.
I crumbled inside. Those three shots had drained me of whatever life I had. I had a sniper rifle, some ammo, and three empty shells. I was an empty shell.
Some might say there is no point to taking an empty rocket launcher with you. I disagree; there is no point in leaving it behind, in leaving myself behind.
I was going to make a run for it. It felt lighter with three empty shells. I felt lighter; or was it weaker?
I ran, never turning around, not even for a second. I kept my eyes on the path in front of me, whatever path that happened to be. I ran until I felt safe enough to slow down. What I was carrying slowed me down, but I could not leave it behind. I could not leave myself behind.
I heard another explosion from where Nolan and Oren attempted to break into. No way had they made it out alive. Not a chance. If they did, I doubt I’ll ever see them again.
But, what about Hal? He was nowhere in sight. I wonder if he took his own path. I wonder if he found a path. I had four days to get to know these men, and in the last two days I have lost myself. I wonder if he still has his life.
I have mine, in the sense that I am walking, and breathing. To the unsuspecting eye, the threat of my identity is still present. But, I know better. I wonder if there is someone out there with three more shells for this empty man. I’ll wander on.